So this chapter is shorter than the rest 'cause I've got exams slash a hundred-page-long script to write, currently standing at fifty pages. So I had to write this one quickly. XD

Okay. So.

Onto the story~

Cranepaw fell to the ground at his mother's paws. He couldn't look away from her staring eyes, the eyes that had been so full of patient affection when she was talking to him, glittering with amusement when he told stories of his and Racingpaw's adventures.

Now they were sightlessly staring upwards into the dawning morning.

"Oh, StarClan," he moaned, his breath agonizingly tight in his chest. It felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air. He was gasping in quick, shallow breaths but it wasn't enough. His head swam.

Whitewind pressed her muzzle against the side of his neck, her breath soft on his cheek. "Come away, Cranepaw. Come away now, darling. Come on…"

But he wouldn't move. "Mother," he rasped.

In the background, he could hear murmuring, like wind rippling through long grass. Whitewind was pressing them back, telling someone to fetch Raggedstar. Foxheart's voice came first, loudest, her tone shrill with shock. Cranepaw couldn't make out her words.

"StarClan!" someone exclaimed and Cranepaw barely registered his leader approaching. Raggedstar bent and rapidly sniffed along Silversong's neck, where the blood was the strongest. "Yellowfang!"

The medicine cat hurried up, Runningpaw at her side. Racingpaw's brother was smaller and sicklier than he was, so he'd been a perfect fit for Yellowfang's apprentice. Today he was snuffling thickly as he mimicked his mentor's motions, dipping around Silversong's body, poking and prodding.

He lifted Silversong's foreleg too quickly as he checked her chest. It slid off his shoulders and hit the ground with a thump.

Cranepaw immediately reacted. Covering Silversong's body with his own, he slammed his forepaws down near Runningpaw enough to make the smaller apprentice jump. "Don't touch her!" he snarled, baring his teeth.

Runningpaw immediately recoiled but Yellowfang did not.

With narrowed eyes, she said, "Do you want to know how your mother died or not?"

The words hit him like thorn-sharp claws. He winced away from them. "Don't—don't say that…"

Yellowfang said matter-of-factly, "She's dead, Cranepaw. She's gone. If you want me to find out how she died, so you can feel a bit of comfort from that, you need to step back and let us do our work. We know what we're doing."

Despite her harsh tone, Cranepaw knew she was doing him a kindness. But his aching heart wouldn't allow him to speak to it. Nodding once sharply, he stepped back and into the comforting shelter of Whitewind's body. She curved her silky tail around him and rested her chin atop his head as Yellowfang moved forward, though not without a soft reprimand to Runningpaw for his clumsiness.

Racingpaw was by Whitewind. He pressed his nose against Cranepaw's pelt, trying to comfort his friend with touch alone. Cranepaw accepted it with dull thanks, bumping his forehead against his friend's.

Raggedstar sat at the edge of the circle that had grown around Silversong's body. His eyes locked with Yellowfang's and he nodded, something passing between them that Cranepaw couldn't understand. Then he said, "Results?"

Yellowfang sat down hard with a great release of breath. Hanging her head below her shoulders, she said, "Killed by a warrior."

A hiss of horror ran around the circle.

Ashfur, a thin gray tom, spoke up first, his voice trembling. "Who?"

Yellowfang shook her head. "Her scent is lost because of the damp from last night. I can't detect a thing."

Raggedstar, without hesitation, said, "Cloudpelt."

The white warrior peeled away from the group, padding up on light paws, his eyes determined. Cloudpelt was by far the best tracker in the Clan. If he couldn't find out what scent was on Silversong, no one could.

But when Cloudpelt pulled away, distress on his face, Cranepaw felt his heart throb painfully. He shook his head. "I can't smell…anything. Just the peat."

Raggedstar nodded to himself, dipping his dark head against his chin, as if that had answered something. "Who was with her? Who found her?"

Before Cranepaw could answer, Blackfoot spoke up. "I did, Raggedstar."

"Where was she?"

Blackfoot jerked his head over his shoulder. "I found her at the border to Fourtrees when I was on dawn patrol. She was facing…" He trailed off hesitantly, looking over at Brokentail.

Cranepaw fixed on his hated face, watching with dull disbelief as he nodded his friend on encouragingly.

"Yes?" Raggedstar sounded testy. Behind him, the Clan had their eyes fixed on Blackfoot, waiting impatiently.

Blackfoot jerked his eyes from Brokentail. "RiverClan," he said at last, sounding apologetic, as if he hadn't wanted to admit it. "She was facing RiverClan."

Littlebird, who had pulled her old bones out of the elders' den, whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Going back to her mate, I suppose. Serves her right, then. A traitor till the end."

Cranepaw wheeled on her, finally feeling something—hot, poisonous rage, venomous as an adder bite—but to his surprise, Brokentail snapped first.

"Silversong was a loyal ShadowClan warrior," he said, narrowing his orange eyes at Littlebird. "She served her Clan well, and until the end. If she was killed by RiverClan warriors, then she didn't plan on it. She was fighting. Look at her fur and then tell me she deserved to die, Littlebird."

Sufficiently mollified by an outburst from silent, sullen Brokentail of all cats, Littlebird didn't say anything else.

Raggedstar sighed heavily, turning sad yellow eyes on Silversong. "She was young," he said. "She didn't deserve this." Without warning, he turned and raced up to the top branch of his den, where the oak tree forked. Facing the Clan, he said, "We will not allow this to pass! Silversong will be avenged! Tonight we will honor Silversong's death with a feast and tomorrow, we go to RiverClan. We will demand to know what happened to our own. ShadowClan do not forgive those who go against us. We will not forgive this tragedy!"

Yowls of agreement rang out across the clearing but Cranepaw didn't join in. He was watching Brokentail, who was standing silently again, his eyes on his father, and wondered just how much the dark warrior had really felt for his mother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few days later, Silversong's grave had already been smoothed over by moss. Cranepaw stood in front of it, a scrawny mouse in his jaws. He dropped it on the ground where his mother lay beneath and said, "I brought you this. It's your favorite."

The mouse looked absolutely tiny. In the little oak hollow where ShadowClan buried their dead, it was silent. Even the cold north wind, the one they said hardened ShadowClan hearts, was still.

Cranepaw thought about that wind, how it struck fear into other Clans and strength into ShadowClan. He closed his eyes and let the smell of earth and blood fill his nose, hoping it would strengthen him, too.

RiverClan had no answers for them. When Raggedstar had led the patrol—Cranepaw was not allowed to go but Stumpypaw did, and he told him everything—RiverClan had acted confused. Raggedstar had even met with the deputy Timberfur but he claimed he didn't know anything. When Raggedstar threatened to out them all at the next Gathering, Timberfur hadn't been a mousetail bit of afraid.

I guess that means they're liars, he thought, anger pulsing through him in dull throbs, beating in time with his heavy heart. He would beg to go to the next Gathering. He would do anything to get a chance to try and find the cat who killed his mother.

Something shuffled behind him. "I'm fine, Racingpaw" he said, without being prompted.

It wasn't Racingpaw. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Rosepaw dropped into a sitting position beside him. Her soft yellow eyes were on him, he could feel it. "Cranepaw, you've hardly talked to anyone for days."

He kept his eyes determinedly on the ground in front of him. "I have nothing to say."

"That's not true." Her voice was gentle but it also sounded tense, like a strung vine. "Cranepaw, we're all worried for you. We want to help you."

"Don't. I don't need help." He stood abruptly, wanting to be anywhere but here having this discussion with Rosepaw. She'd been nothing but nice to him his whole life but right now, he didn't want nice. He wanted to scream.

Rosepaw just looked up at him. "I want to help you," she said, her eyes bright. "Not just anyone or everyone. Me. I don't like seeing you so unhappy."

Cranepaw laughed harshly. "I'm sorry if my mother's murder puts me in a bad mood. I'll work on that."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." A bit of hardness came into her voice. "Nightpelt tells me you haven't been going to lessons. You go out by yourself."

Cranepaw didn't answer. The other Clans might have to have apprentices supervised but ShadowClan encouraged their young cats to go out alone. It trained them for stealth. It helped to keep them directed, to worry for themselves. It was helpful.

Alone was what was protecting him from their terrible, smothering sympathy.

Rosepaw tried for a different angle. "Silversong wouldn't want you to—"

"Oh no," he said sharply, his back fur rising. He could feel it like sharp jabs of rain along his spine. "Don't you dare bring Silversong into this!"

"If you'll recall," she said softly, "I loved her, too. You didn't just lose someone, Cranepaw. We all did."

"No," he said. "No, that's not true. Didn't you hear Littlebird? What she said about my mother?" He burned with rage at the thought of it, at the horrible look of smugness on the old cat's face when she said Silversong had deserved death.

"Yes," Rosepaw said evenly, her eyes level. "You didn't hear the part where Raggedstar ordered her to do a moon's worth of dawn and moonhigh patrols. When she refused, he suggested she go find herself a nice Twoleg home to live in, since ShadowClan warriors obviously weren't doing the trick."

That got him. He laughed a bit, under his breath. Serves her right, sour old she-cat. I hope her paws ache.

Rosepaw looked pleased, as if taking in a bit of his reflected amusement. "You missed something else, too. Stumpypaw became a warrior tonight."

"What's his name?"

"Stumpytail." She laughed once, the sound melodic like falling water. "They're about to give out apprentices so I came to fetch you."

"Apprentices? To who?"

Rosepaw tilted her head to the side, her eyes slanted coyly. "Why don't you come back with me and find out?"

He didn't want to. He wanted to stay here with his mother but it was impossible. She wasn't here. Yellowfang was right. And the sooner he accepted that, the happier he would be.

Until he met with RiverClan. Then he would have something else to burn for.

They got back into the clearing just in time to watch Brightflower's kits step forward, their fur smoothed until it shone. Volepaw, who had just received his new name, bounded forward and touched noses with his new mentor, Blackfoot.

"Blackfoot, in return for your loyalty to your Clan and your Clanmates, and for returning Silversong to us, you receive this apprentice. Teach Volepaw everything you know."

Blackfoot, whose eyes were gleaming, knelt down to the apprentice's level and returned the touch, whispering into his apprentice's ear.

Raggedstar turned to Mosskit. "Likewise, for your outspokenness in protection of a Clanmate, you will be Mosspaw's mentor, Brokentail."

Brokentail! Cranepaw's fur riled up along his back at the very sound of his name. Despite Brokentail's speaking up for his mother, Cranepaw did not trust him. He seemed so shifty, so silent, that he couldn't be trusted.

Brokentail, who had groomed his dark fur until it was glossy like a moonless night, strode forward smoothly and touched Mosspaw's nose. The little kit drew back a little, looking afraid, before stretching out and pressing his nose quickly to his new mentor's.

"Mosspaw! Volepaw! Mosspaw! Volepaw!" The Clan cheered for their new apprentices, each sounding fox-lengths happier than they had a few days ago. And in a way, Cranepaw was happy that someone was happy. It felt like he could breathe easier now that there were new cats helping to carry along the hard name of ShadowClan.

Rosepaw said, "Shall we go set them up with some nests?" As the second-oldest apprentice, now that Stumpytail would be in the warriors' den, she probably felt some sort of duty towards the newest members, even though that task should have gone to Clawpaw.

Clawpaw himself was prancing around Brokentail and Blackfoot, chattering quickly. He was standing heavier than he usually did, his shoulders squared, like he was trying to make himself look bigger.

Rosepaw, who had noticed Cranepaw's distraction, followed his gaze, her fur bristling. "Clawpaw's going to get himself into trouble that way," she said softly. "He should know his place."

"And where is his place?" Cranepaw asked, his voice sounding hard, even to him.

He felt her eyes move to his face. "If he's smart, not with them."

Shock flooded through him. He wheeled to her. "You don't trust them?"

Rosepaw looked hesitant now, as if she hadn't meant to say that. She scuffed her darker paws in the dirt, her tail sweeping slowly from side to side. It made her look young, which was not how Cranepaw usually thought her. He always imagined her as nearly a warrior, if only because of her solemn yellow eyes and soft-spoken nature.

Then she looked up at him through her eyelashes and he felt a dull flush spread in his belly. "No," she whispered. "I don't know why. My instincts are telling me that—that something is wrong with Brokentail. There's something missing in his eyes when he speaks to others. I don't know what it is. I've always been…afraid of him." She looked miserable. "Please don't tell him."

The thought almost made him laugh but he knew better. Rosepaw would be hurt. "I hate him," he said honestly, somehow keeping the ice out of his voice. "He…he threatened my mother."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

Cranepaw was reluctant to tell her. What if she went to Raggedstar and he lost his only chance for revenge? If he didn't get to go to the Gathering this next moon, he would miss the chance to confront RiverClan. Rosepaw was enough of a stickler for the warrior code to report anything suspicious to the leader—even if it meant she was reporting a friend.

So Cranepaw decided to lie. "I thought I heard him say something to her."

"Like what?" She leaned closer, looking appalled. "You don't think…that he—"

"No," he said quickly, pretending he was affronted. "StarClan, no. I'm just saying…he had a thing for my mother. It must be hard on him."

But Rosepaw wasn't stupid and she wasn't buying his lies. "Cranepaw, if you know something, you should—"

"It's nothing," he insisted. Sidestepping her when she tried to protest, he said, "Come on. Volepaw and Mosspaw are waiting for us, right?" He looked over his shoulder expectantly, hoping he had kept his expression clear of emotion.

Rosepaw watched him for a long moment, lasting several heartbeats, and for each one of them, dread pumped icily into Cranepaw's chest.

Then she seemed to relax. "Alright," she said evenly, stepping to his side. "You know, Cranepaw… You can trust me. I'm your friend."

Cranepaw purred once, the sound rusty from disuse. He couldn't remember the last time he purred. "Of course, Rosepaw. I trust you."

The lie tasted foul.

Woooo!

Hey hey hey, on Tuesday, I get to see if I progressed in ABNA! And I get to find out if I got into a summer program! And...something else that was also exciting! Eep!

But first, I have to do two portfolios, my script, and an exam. D:

But it shall be worth it. IT SHALL.

So...that's good. XD

R&R~

Shadow